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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27622904">Crown</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Str4y/pseuds/Str4y'>Str4y</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Heat [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Assisted Suicide, Burns, Character Death, Crucifixion, Cults, Explicit Language, Fictional Religion &amp; Theology, Fire, Graphic Description, Guilt, Hallucinations, Healing, Heavy Angst, Horror, Hospitalization, Hospitals, M/M, Mental Instability, Murder, No Smut, POV Alternating, Read Author Notes, Regret, Religious Cults, Self-Harm, Sequel, Suicide, Trauma, Unrealistic hospital situations, and this is fiction, because I’m not a fucking doctor, finale, only once</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:33:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27622904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Str4y/pseuds/Str4y</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Changbin didn’t want anything to do with the chaos that ensued once his friend was killed. He didn’t want anything to do with his friends weirdo roommate;Chan, either — though because of Chan, he’d been given Jisung. Changbin didn’t want to live what his friend had faced either, but he had no choice. </p><p>And now, Changbin didn’t know what to do about the man rooms away from him that had caused all of this. </p><p>Finale to Nails.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Seo Changbin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Heat [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1475957</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The worst summary ever im so sorry ugh. Anyways, wee woo you're all going to hate this but that’s fine. If you haven’t read nails or ropes I advise you don’t read this. I mean, you CAN but the story MAY not make sense. This takes place after Nails, and during/after Ropes.</p><p>Minor disclaimer; the religion in this fic is fictional. As if everything about this fic. Fictional. Along with my shitty knowledge of hospitals, don’t take any of this too seriously.<br/>A bigger disclaimer; there's a pretty graphic suicide in this fic at the end, don't read if that is triggering in any way.<br/> </p><p>Also, read my tags please. If you don’t read tags or notes and something triggers you, that’s on you. </p><p>Uhhhh other than that, enjoy the end to nails and ropes. ✨</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin looked up from his phone, rolling his eyes as Minho settled close beside him, chin resting against Changbin’s shoulder, “just a game.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lame.” Minho laughed, yawning against Changbin, “wanna come study with the group tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Study. Changbin shuddered at the thought of wasting his night with work. </p><p> </p><p>“Nah man, I’ll just stay in and go to the gym or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your loss.” Minho laughed, rising up from his spot beside Changbin. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin drew a deep breath, “how’s your leg, Min?”</p><p> </p><p>Minho patted his thigh lightly, “it hurts, but Chan helped me clean and wrap it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hyunjin really... I’m glad you talked to him about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s a psychopath,” Minho spat, “if I were you I’d stop talking to him before he invites you for a fuck and burn.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin snickered at that, shaking his head, “yeah, definitely not interested in getting burnt.”</p><p> </p><p>Minho laughed, punching Changbin’s arm playfully, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bin.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin didn’t see Minho the next day. Not because Minho skipped or anything. And not because Changbin avoided him. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin didn’t see Minho because... Minho had died unexpectedly. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t see Minho the next day, but he managed to see where he was hours before the next day began. </p><p> </p><p>The studio fire was at such a weird time of night. Changbin could remember smelling the smoke from the gym. He remembered running with the few people who were working out that night to the source in a strange excited panic. Some of the students were cheering like it was a game. Everyone thought it was a joke. Just a random fire. </p><p> </p><p>But <em> no </em>. Nobody expected this. </p><p> </p><p>They didn’t expect two bodies to be pulled out.</p><p> </p><p>Changbin could remember the pain in his chest the second he saw the stretchers after watching the fire cease. Two students he probably knew. Two people that he could have seen walking about campus. </p><p> </p><p>No, Changbin <em> did </em> know them. He knew them very well. Hyunjin and Minho were so close to him. And he found out hours later that those two crisp bodies were theirs. </p><p> </p><p>And it <em> hurt </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin found out after he tried to call Minho about it. He found out when he asked their RA where Minho was after he hadn’t responded to his messages about the fire. He found out when he realized Minho <em> wasn’t </em> in his room. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin’s chest had gotten so heavy to the point he collapsed when the rumors spread hours later that Hyunjin and Minho were the two bodies. And it made sense. Minho was unresponsive to both Changbin and their RA, and nobody had heard from Hyunjin that entire day. Apparently he’d mentioned going to the studio late for some reason. </p><p> </p><p>It hurt. </p><p> </p><p>The school confirmation email hurt too. Changbin remembered breaking down the second he read their names. The news <em> hurt </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin remembered running to Minho’s dorm, banging on the door and begging Chan to let him in and tell him the news was false, that <em> somehow </em> he and Minho were together and that this was a sick joke. </p><p> </p><p>But nobody had seen Chan either. </p><p> </p><p>Not for a while. </p><p> </p><p>The first time Changbin saw Chan again was at the funeral. Minho’s. </p><p> </p><p>Hyunjin’s funeral had been held days after the fire. Very fast and Changbin felt so uncomfortable attending. His family seemed to be awfully accepting and it rubbed Changbin in all the wrong ways. </p><p> </p><p>Minho’s family had postponed for some reason. Changbin wasn’t used to waiting so long. But he understood. Minho’s family was in denial. In contrast to Hyunjin’s, they hadn’t understood how their son had died in that fire. Hell, everyone was confused. Minho never went to the studio so late at night. He always practiced in the morning. </p><p> </p><p>Chan seemed so lost. Chan, who had been missing for <em> so </em> long, was standing beside Minho’s mother, shaking and silent. Minho’s mother had spoken to him throughout the funeral procession but... Fuck, Chan looked so ill. So sick. Literally paler than Changbin had ever seen him. He must’ve been in so much shock. </p><p> </p><p>“Chan?” </p><p> </p><p>Chan had bags under his eyes, face mask around his mouth and nose and dressed head to toe in black. He didn’t want to be seen.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey it’s... I’m so sorry, Chan.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin knew Chan.  Not as well as Minho had known him. But he <em> knew </em> him. He knew how much Minho loved this guy. He knew how much Minho would gloat and giggle about how great Chan was. Minho would go on for hours about how much he liked Chan. </p><p> </p><p>Chan didn’t really answer him. He just let out these heartbreaking sobs. He was so distraught. </p><p> </p><p>It broke Changbin’s heart. </p><p> </p><p>He never really got much out from Chan. Eventually Chan returned to school. He was quiet. Different. But of <em> course </em> he was. He lost the love of his life in a cruel fire. </p><p> </p><p>But maybe good came from Minho’s death and Chan’s return to campus. It felt awful to think of, but in a way... It had done a little good. </p><p> </p><p><em> Jisung </em> was good. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin remembered meeting the squirrelly boy when he went to visit Chan once. </p><p> </p><p>The new roommate. He was cute, nice and talkative. He honestly wouldn’t stop talking when Changbin tried to visit Chan. </p><p> </p><p>He was so cute. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin wasn’t sure when it happened but one day he went to visit Chan and instead met Jisung at the door. Usually he would have just left if Chan wasn’t there, but for some reason he went inside the room. And he just kinda talked to Jisung. For a long time. About nothing and then about everything. </p><p> </p><p>Jisung was so deep. He was so attentive and kind. He was bubbly and dorky yet so inquisitive. It was weird. Changbin liked that, though. It was comforting. </p><p> </p><p>And in the least harmful way, Jisung was <em> so </em> similar to Minho. He reminded him of how funny Minho was. And how passionate he was. </p><p> </p><p>It felt comforting, talking to him. It was almost as if Changbin had his closest friend back. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin couldn’t remember how they became a thing. He couldn't recall how he’d ended up making out with Jisung one day in the man's bed, hand up his shirt to desperately feel his sputtering heartbeat. </p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t remember how the <em> fuck </em> that had happened. </p><p> </p><p>But he was glad it did. </p>
<hr/><p>A year had gone by. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin had been with Jisung for months. He’d grown more distant with Chan, but Jisung did his best to keep them happy. Jisung wasn’t the largest fan of Chan for some reason. He thought Chan was weird. With time Changbin learned that Chan would talk to Minho in his sleep. Would <em> apologize </em> for not being <em> there </em> for him. Changbin started to grow more and more distant from the man. Chan was weird. Really weird. Maybe it was cruel to think Chan was weird, but he couldn’t help it. Chan was kinda fucked. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin had no fucking clue he was <em> this fucked up.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Parties were usually fun. Usually, really fun. </p><p> </p><p>Not this time. </p><p> </p><p>This time <em> he </em> fucked up.</p><p> </p><p>But it wasn’t <em> his </em> fault. Not entirely. He didn’t know that he’d taken some really messy drugs. He didn’t realize that the man he had made out with wasn’t Jisung. It wasn’t his fault... Sort of. He didn’t know. Honestly and truly, he <em> didn’t </em> realize. </p><p> </p><p>He just knew he fucked up and he was being yelled at by Jisung and he got burned with something and... He really couldn’t grasp what had happened in such a quick time span. </p><p> </p><p>Nothing made sense until he opened his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>It hurt. He hurt all over. Changbin couldn’t even understand this pain. He didn’t understand where he was. Or why Chan was settled over him, eyes wide in surprise.</p><p> </p><p>Changbin couldn’t hold his tongue. His defense was anger. Rage. The pain was quickly soothed with some screaming and thrashing. Though he could tell thrashing was doing him more harm. He could feel the punctures in his ankles and hands. It was excruciating. But his focus was on screaming at Chan. </p><p> </p><p><em> Chan </em>. </p><p> </p><p>This was all Chan. Chan was... Changbin couldn’t stomach this. He couldn’t. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to kill you, do you understand!?”</p><p> </p><p>He meant it. And Chan seemed to just take it. He was taking everything. He held this weird sadness in his eyes, but fuck. Changbin knew it meant nothing. </p><p> </p><p>Chan was a monster. </p><p> </p><p>A sick monster. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin could see the crowd and the fear started to form in his stomach. It hurt. Being pulled upside down with this fucking crown planted into his skull. And shit, the nails? He was tired and they stung. They were rusted and disgusting and—</p><p> </p><p>He wanted to leave. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin’s pleads did nothing. The brief pleading did nothing. So he screamed. He told Chan horrible things. He spat and growled at him like a feral animal. Even though his heart was terrified for what was to come, his brain was telling him to fight. To just fight and scream at his assailant. It wasn’t like anything he did would change what Chan was doing to him. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin’s heart started screaming the second he saw the gas can. </p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t expected that. Changbin’s head spun as the man he’d ignored sat in silence as gas was poured down his body. Changbin had never seen—no. He remembered that man. Very briefly, he <em> remembered </em> those freckles. </p><p> </p><p>Jesus fuck. </p><p> </p><p>Even if Changbin had been drugged beyond belief, he could recognize that this was the man who had burnt him. The man he kissed. The man who had burned Jisung. </p><p> </p><p>This man was one of <em> them. </em>By the brief look of peace, Changbin knew. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin was a beetle stuck in a spider's web. And he couldn’t get out. </p><p> </p><p>This was planned. This was... Changbin got bold, thrashing harder despite the pain in his temples and hands. </p><p> </p><p>He had to get out. </p><p> </p><p>As the man beside him started to burn... Actually fucking <em> burn </em>. Changbin panicked at the heat. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin ripped his hand forwards, taking the nail along with him. Thank god for his adrenaline otherwise he’d be crying and whining at the intense pain. Thank god his body was <em> helping </em> him fight through this. </p><p> </p><p>He reached over to the other nail easily, tearing it out with such ease that... Did they mean for it to be so loose?</p><p> </p><p>Changbin tried to grasp the knot holding him on this fucking cross. He couldn’t quite reach—</p><p> </p><p>Chan was approaching. No. Fuck no. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin panicked, “get the fuck away from me! Go fuck yourself chan!” He growled as Chan ascended the ladder, watching changbin with this weird intensity. </p><p> </p><p>He had to ask. He had to hurt Chan. If Chan had any feelings he knew this would sting. </p><p> </p><p>“Did you do this to <em> Minho </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin expected the answer. He knew that what happened to Hyunjin and Minho made sense now. The boy beside him was <em> Hyunjin </em> . And <em> he </em> was Minho. This situation was the same. </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly Changbin wanted to cry. He wasn’t a crier. But he could feel the fear bubbling inside of him. He was strong. Minho was too. But Minho was also awfully emotional. He was so much more sensitive and— Chan had really burned him alive, hadn’t he? The pit of Changbin’s stomach knotted, he wanted to vomit at the thought of Minho being in his position. Minho was his friend. </p><p> </p><p>He thought that Chan loved Minho? Why would Chan— </p><p> </p><p>“I did.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin’s heart snapped. </p><p> </p><p>And then the gasoline smacked Changbin’s limbs. Drenched him. But not entirely... Chan pulled the gas canister away. Was this a joke?! The less gasoline the longer it would take, right? Changbin shuddered at the thought of Chan wanting him to burn longer. Slower. </p><p> </p><p>Chan was a monster. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin kept thrashing, “you’re insane, Chan!”</p><p> </p><p>Chan ignored him. </p><p> </p><p>“God... you really burned Minho?! You killed him?!” Saying it aloud only made Changbin want to cry harder. </p><p> </p><p>Chan was silent. </p><p> </p><p>“You... he loved you, you sick fuck! Minho loved you and you— You fucking monster!”</p><p> </p><p>Chan had to have felt the distress. But he wasn’t showing it. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin let out this laugh of disbelief as he swung his hands to claw at Chan as he took the candle harshly from the woman standing there. </p><p> </p><p>Chan looked crazy. Off and on he’d been speaking to someone that wasn’t there... <em> Fuck, </em> Chan was insane. </p><p> </p><p>Shit. </p><p> </p><p>Chan had the candle. <em> Shit </em>. </p><p> </p><p>He was ascending slowly. He only stopped briefly to whisper that he was sorry. </p><p> </p><p>It only pissed Changbin off more. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin couldn’t believe this. This wasn’t real. </p><p> </p><p>No. It was very real. Changbin could <em> smell </em> something burning. He wasn’t sure what it was. But it was very different from the smell the man off to the side of him gave. This was... <em> electrical </em>?</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t focus on that smell long. Within moments Changbin’s eyes were wide as his soles began to burn along with the tip of wood close to his feet. </p><p> </p><p>This was so fucking real. </p><p> </p><p>He was burning. He could feel the flames whipping at his ankles. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin didn’t know he could scream like this. Like a wild animal caught in a snare. He didn’t know he could feel so much pain. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin wiggled himself, tugging at the knots around him as he tried to move his legs. He had to get out. It hurt so badly. He was panicking so badly. He was going to die. Chan was roasting him slowly. It was cruel. It was so unfair. </p><p> </p><p>Chan was doing something else. The crowd of monsters started to panic. </p><p> </p><p>But his own panic shadowed everything else. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin wasn’t sure when it happened, but he could taste his snot and tears running down his face. He could hear himself breathing so rapidly. He was panicking, whimpering as the fire slowly wrapped around his legs. He was on fire. He was going to burn just like that man beside him had. </p><p> </p><p>He was going to burn just like Minho had. </p><p> </p><p>He should have begged harder. He shouldn’t have yelled at Chan. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin whimpered as the cross jolted before smacking the ground. His head spun. He was so groggy and terrified all at once. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t sure what he was feeling as the fire reached his thighs. It was so much. Too much. </p><p> </p><p>But then he felt something encase him. Something thick was over his legs. Something was extinguishing the fire. Some sort of blanket. </p><p> </p><p><em> Someone </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin looked up through tears as hands tugged at the ropes, panic all over the squirrelly man's face... Jisung.</p><p> </p><p>Why was Jisung here? Changbin couldn’t focus. His head hurt so bad. He hit it. He hit his head so badly when he fell. Everything hurt so bad. </p><p> </p><p>Jisung left him briefly. But changbin couldn’t focus much on that. His head was spinning with panic and relief. He wasn’t burning anymore but the pain was still there. It lingered, spreading up his back and into the back of his neck. Everything hurt. Changbin just hurt all over. His head was heavy with the metallic crown at his head. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The fucking crown.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And being hoist up by Jisung hurt so much. His legs felt so lifeless. He was lucky he could still feel them. Maybe. Was it luck? It hurt so bad. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin felt cool air hit his face. The first coolness he’d felt all night. The first coolness he’d felt in so long. </p><p> </p><p>He passed out. He knew that much. </p>
<hr/><p>How much time had passed? </p><p> </p><p>Maybe he was dead. </p><p> </p><p>He felt <em> so </em> light. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin opened his eyes, slow and crusted over. He felt so weak. So light and cold. </p><p> </p><p>It was bright. Wherever he was... It was bright. Really bright. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin turned his head, searing pain ripping through his head and causing him to whimper out. He could feel the pillow behind him. Not the sharp crown. But the pain lingered. It was still there. He could feel the tiny punctures. The weight. He could feel the metallic sharpness embedded into his skull. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe that was just bandages. </p><p> </p><p>He could feel bandages. All around his skull. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin could hear nurses around. He could see monitors. He knew he was at a hospital. He knew he was alive. But was he really? </p><p> </p><p>This only confirmed that the nightmare had actually happened. The fire. Chan. The admission to killing Minho and the cult? It was all <em> real </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin turned his head again, tears filling his eyes as he stirred uncomfortably. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He could feel his legs. He could feel the bandages uncomfortably wrapped around them. And it took a moment but he could see how much of his legs must have been burned. The bandages wrapped so much of him. Up to his knees despite him remembering he’d felt his thighs burning. But maybe that wasn’t real. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it felt. </p><p> </p><p>It looked bad. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin stayed silent as a nurse came in, asking if he had woken up. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to move. </p><p> </p><p>So he didn’t. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin had realized that it had been just days since the incident. Though he didn’t want to, he’d talked to the doctors and nurses the best he could. They seemed appalled by what had happened. </p><p> </p><p>The news was appalled too. Changbin had asked for the remote. Asked for any sort of distraction from the sight of his bandaged legs. </p><p> </p><p>The news had no fucking idea what had happened. They just kept on about all the people who had been killed. All the kids and... it just made Changbin’s stomach hurt.</p><p> </p><p>This cult was extensive. Huge. Apparently one of the top surgeons of the hospital was a part of it. He died in the blaze. </p><p> </p><p>Everyone there had. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin felt some peace in that. Knowing those bad people had perished. He couldn’t even... He  felt awful, but he felt absolutely nothing for even the children in the crowd. </p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t. </p>
<hr/><p>“Hey…”</p><p> </p><p><em> Jisung </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin had been very wary of how Jisung reached him. Suspicious of how he knew Changbin was... <em> there </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Of course he wasn’t okay. Changbin scoffed at that, turning his head only to whimper again, reaching a shaky bandaged palm to his temple. </p><p> </p><p>He was covered in bandages. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t move, okay?” Jisung brushed his palm across Changbin’s cheek. He had a bandage too. And Chanbin could swear he saw that his fingers were wrapped up too, had Jisung been hurt? </p><p> </p><p>“Your hand…” Changbin whispered. </p><p> </p><p>Jisung just smiled, “hey…”</p><p> </p><p><em> Jisung </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Jisung had broken up with him. Changbin could remember that. Changbin knew he’d cheated on him. He had kissed on other people, grinded a little too closely on someone—that guy... fuck. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m so—“</p><p> </p><p>“Shush, don’t talk okay?” Jisung pet Changbin’s cheek, <em> warmth </em>, “just relax, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin listened, leaning into the touch despite the shooting pain in his head each time he moved, “Jisung, what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“What did I say?” Jisung laughed, settling into the chair beside Changbin’s bed. He seemed comfy. Like he’d used that chair before. He must have come to see Changbin before he woke up, “just rest. I’ll explain when I can, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jisung…”</p><p> </p><p>“Shhh—“</p><p> </p><p>“Do my parents know?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung stilled, the feeling of warm fingers carding into his own, “yeah. They do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Have they—“</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. They’ve come a bunch, actually. Don’t move your head too much but that table over there might break if they leave any more flowers.” Jisung laughed, taking Changbin’s hand to his lips, pressing the tiniest kisses along his knuckles. </p><p> </p><p>“Jisung…”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t hate me?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung frowned, “no, of course I don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin just let his head roll, whimpering slightly as he closed his eyes tight, Jisung giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “I could never hate you, Bin…”</p><p> </p><p>There was some comfort in that. It felt nice. </p><p> </p><p>Jisung sighed, nuzzling into Changbin’s hand, “let’s just... What happened that night doesn’t matter, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“How did you find out…?” Changbin watched Jisung closely, bringing his free hand to pet his hair. </p><p> </p><p>He wanted to know how Jisung had gotten to him. He wanted to know how on earth Jisung knew that Changbin was in that church…</p><p> </p><p>“Chan told me.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin’s breath hitched. <em> Chan. </em>He held such a deep hatred for Chan that he was sure would never fade. Chan had tried to kill him. Chan killed Minho and... Chan was bad. </p><p> </p><p>“Jisung why would he—“</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know if I can defend him at all, but he saved you,” Jisung sighed, pressing a small kiss to Changbin’s hand again, “he saved you…”</p><p> </p><p>Saved?</p><p> </p><p>Changbin swallowed hard. He didn’t realize how dry his throat was. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re kidding right?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung frowned, “like I said, he did. I’m not going to sit here and defend him but... he could have let you…” jisung stopped, eyes shut tight as he sprayed Changbin’s knuckle in subtle kisses, “I’m just glad you’re alive.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t need to be in this position <em> period… </em>” Changbin wanted badly to pull away and yell some sense into Jisung. But he couldn’t do that. He was enjoying his warmth. Enjoying everything about him…“Is he alive?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung grew still. Quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Changbin wasn’t sure what Chan’s goal was that night. He wasn’t sure how he felt knowing that Chan had killed Minho just a year prior. He didn’t know what to think. But Chan was <em> alive </em>. He knew that much. Based on Jisung’s sigh and solemn expression as his eyes peered open, he knew. </p><p> </p><p>“He survived?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well... Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>Why was Jisung unsure? </p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean, well yeah? Didn’t he tell us to leave—“</p><p> </p><p>“I went back in for him.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin couldn’t be mad. He couldn’t be upset. He wouldn’t. He knew that... Jisung was such a good person. </p><p> </p><p>“You went back in?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung nodded, “I couldn’t just...you see my hand right? It’s not from you. It’s from dragging Chan out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jisung…” Changbin pulled himself upright, whimpering at the sudden pain in his head as he wrapped his bandaged hands around Jisung’s, rolling his thumb over his boyfriends palm. Wait—were they still dating? Jisung broke up with him and even if he said that the night didn’t matter... were they still? Changbin drew a deep breath, “how bad is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Me or him?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Honestly </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Both of you…”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung glanced down at his palm, “it’s just blistered but I’m fine. My wrists are okay too that’s why there’s no bandages. For some reason the fire didn’t do too much to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s good... I’m glad you’re okay. Jesus, Jisung what happened…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Later. Remember?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin frowned at that, “and Chan?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung shook his head slowly, “not so good. He was really bad when I... I don’t know how I wasn’t burnt more than I was but he’s... he’s really bad.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s here, isn’t he?” Changbin felt that was a weird thing to ask, “in this hospital…”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung nodded, sitting himself on the bed beside Changbin, “don’t think about it anymore, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>It was hard not to. </p><p> </p><p>“Jisung,” he wanted to ask more but, “how bad am I? Do you know?” </p><p> </p><p>Changbin could feel his legs. He could see the bandages and he knew he was on lots of medication. He could see the IV and the monitor. He knew it wasn’t great. But he could at least wiggle his toes. All of them. </p><p> </p><p>“Not as bad as you could have been,” Jisung smiled, “you’re actually doing a lot better than they thought. I was so worried just days ago, but they said you’ll be okay. Luckily they did everything to prevent infections from the…” he trailed off, biting at his lower lip, “nails.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin drew a deep breath. He wasn’t really feeling too much pain from the incident. He was just mad. He wasn’t terrified or shaken like he should have been. He was just really angry. He didn’t know why. </p><p> </p><p>“How long before I can get out of here…” Changbin looked to the side, a pair of crutches against the doorframe, “I really want to leave…”</p><p> </p><p>“Not sure,” Jisung rested into Changbin, pressing the softest kisses to his jaw, “you’ll probably be here a little while but the doctors left those so you can move around... if you want.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin directed his gaze to the pair of crutches against the wall. </p><p> </p><p>“Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d ask them... I’m just assuming.” Jisung nuzzled close, teeth grazing his throat. </p><p> </p><p>Clearly Jisung wasn’t upset. </p><p> </p><p>“I love you, Jisung…”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you too, okay?”</p>
<hr/><p>Changbin stared at the ceiling, eyes glazed over with sleep. He was exhausted. But he couldn’t sleep. He just couldn’t. </p><p> </p><p>Why was Changbin thinking about <em> that </em> night? Why was he thinking about Chan…?</p><p> </p><p>He should have hated Chan, right? Chan caused all of this damage. Chan was… Chan was a murderer. Chan killed Minho, and had killed dozens of others. He wasn’t a good person. And Changbin should have hated him. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin wasn’t thinking straight. Thank god he could get himself up out of bed, but was it worth it? </p><p> </p><p>What was he <em> really </em> doing trying to get up?</p><p> </p><p>Changbin just wanted to get out of there. Jisung had gone home and he woke up to a cold lonely room. Just inches away were the crutches. He could leave, right? He wanted to leave. He wanted to just... he had to get out.  </p><p> </p><p>But he couldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>At least not that night. </p><p> </p><p>Three nights later and he was up, finally able to stumble enough to reach the crutches. He shouldn’t have been on his legs period, and honestly... they weren’t as bad as he thought. </p><p> </p><p>But maybe that was just his body lying to him. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin had to get out of there. He needed to move. </p><p> </p><p>Overhearing the nurses in the hall as he travelled the hall wasn’t expected. Not one bit. He stayed hidden, listening to the women who must’ve been just around the corner.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t believe that monster is still alive.” </p><p> </p><p>“That boy should have let him die... he was so stupid to let him live.” Changbin would let that go. Honestly, from an outside perspective saving Chan made no sense. Why had Jisung done that?</p><p> </p><p>“I hate that he’s just feet away—“ a kick to a door. Oh?!</p><p> </p><p>Changbin hadn’t travelled that far... but it made sense that Chan was here. In this section of the hospital. Burns. He was burned too. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe he’ll succumb. He’s already lost his mind.” </p><p> </p><p>Changbin leaned against the wall as the nurses left their spot, not really paying any attention to him as they turned his corner. Good. </p><p> </p><p>The door was right there, wasn’t it? </p><p> </p><p>Changbin tilted his head, gazing down the empty hall before moving up to scan what he could read on the clipboard that hung at the door. </p><p> </p><p>It was. </p><p> </p><p>He was right here. In this room. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin shouldn’t have cared. Shouldn’t have wanted to see Chan. Why would he want to see Chan? Why was he—</p><p> </p><p>The door was silent as Changbin pushed it open, carefully moving himself inside, clutching the wall as he lay the crutches against the door. They were too loud. He couldn’t have them stirring anyone...he really shouldn’t have been there. </p><p> </p><p>Why was there no security? Was Chan not being guarded at all?</p><p> </p><p>Changbin’s head spun as he stumbled slowly into the room, the bed coming into view as he clutched the corner. </p><p> </p><p>Oh. </p><p> </p><p>Oh fuck? </p><p> </p><p>Chan was a lot worse than he imagined. He was covered in bandages, tubes everywhere and his face was wrapped. Changbin didn’t even think it was Chan. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe it wasn’t. He couldn’t see anything that resembled Chan at all. </p><p> </p><p>This was a mistake. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin moved from the bed. He should go. </p><p> </p><p><em> Creak </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Minho?”</p><p> </p><p>That actually hurt. Like a lot. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin froze, fingers dropping to his side as the man at the bed shifted, pain coating the small parts of face Changbin could make out. </p><p> </p><p>“Minho, is that you?”</p><p> </p><p>Of course he wasn’t Minho. And of course Minho wasn’t there. Did Chan think he was there? Chan killed him. He was delusional. He was—</p><p> </p><p>“I miss you...you never come around anymore,” Chan’s fingertips moved, sliding towards the direction of Changbin as if he was trying to reach out for him, “Minho...I’m so sorry.” </p><p> </p><p>Chan was handcuffed. Granted he couldn’t move much at all, he was handcuffed to the bed. </p><p> </p><p>There was strain in Chan’s voice. He was shaking too, fingers stretching out for something that simply wasn’t there.</p><p> </p><p>Changbin stayed silent, watching the man try to turn on his side. He looked awful. </p><p> </p><p>“Min? Why are you ignoring me... you wouldn’t leave me alone and now...,” Chan let out a shaky breath, lifting as much as he could as his hand trembled, “now you won’t talk to me…” Changbin let Chan talk. He was so slow and every word he released a hard breath or a dry sob. Changbin’s brain felt so muddy listening to him. </p><p> </p><p>“Minho, I’m so sorry baby—.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin couldn’t stay there. He had to leave. He had to get out. </p><p> </p><p>So he did. He left. He left as quietly as he could as the man at the bed continued his shaky sobs and pleas. He made a mistake. He made a mistake. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin couldn't breathe. As he quickly rounded the corner he pressed his back against the wall, breaths erratic as he ran a hand through his hair. </p><p> </p><p>What was he feeling?  Why wasn’t he feeling hatred? Why didn’t he laugh at Chan’s misery? Why was he feeling <em> sorry </em>for Chan after what he’d done? </p><p> </p><p>Changbin clutched his chest, thoughts spiraling. </p>
<hr/><p>“Hey you,” Jisung’s voice was honey, warm hands raking through Changbin’s hair. “Are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin raised his head slowly, pain in his temple causing him to squint his eyes as he focused on Jisung. </p><p> </p><p>“The nurses said you passed out in the hall yesterday... what happened?” Jisung asked worriedly, hands so warm and eyes so bright. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, I passed out?” Changbin brought a hand to his face, rubbing at his eye and cheek. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah they said you could walk around but... were you not ready?”</p><p> </p><p>“No it’s not that,” Changbin retorted with a frown, “I…”</p><p> </p><p>How could he tell Jisung? Was he supposed to tell him he’d snuck into Chan’s room? Did he lie and say he wasn’t ready to walk around?</p><p> </p><p>“Changbin?” </p><p> </p><p>With just Jisung’s voice, Changbin calmed. </p><p> </p><p>“I saw Chan.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung’s lips parted slightly, “what?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin forced himself upright, pulling covers over his chest as he looked at Jisung, face filled with disbelief. </p><p> </p><p>“I saw Chan. Last night I went to his room... I didn’t <em> know </em>it was his at first, but I saw him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did he see you?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin felt that regurgitation of himself coming up. He wanted to laugh. He would have laughed. Chan deserved that. </p><p> </p><p>But Minho didn’t deserve that. </p><p> </p><p>“He can’t see. He couldn’t see me…”</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus Christ... I haven’t kept up with what happened to him after the fire at all, did you say anything to him?” Jisung took a deep breath, taking Changbin’s hand into his own. </p><p> </p><p>“No. He thought I was Minho.”</p><p> </p><p>It stung to say. It felt wrong to say that. </p><p> </p><p>“Jesus…”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin felt nauseous. </p><p> </p><p>“I left right after that. I couldn’t stay there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you even go in?” </p><p> </p><p>Why did he go in? </p><p> </p><p>Changbin just shook his head, “I don’t fucking know.”</p>
<hr/><p>The wall was moving. It wasn’t really, but the longer Changbin stared, the more the patterns of the wall seemed to stir and move around. </p><p> </p><p>He was so anxious for some reason. </p><p> </p><p>He wanted to leave his room. He wanted to go down the hall and back to Chan’s room. He wanted to see Chan. He wasn’t sure why, but he just... for some fucked it reason, he just wanted to see him. </p><p> </p><p>So he did. </p><p> </p><p>It had been a few days since he’d seen Chan. And he had gotten a lot better at using the crutches. He stealthily made his way down the hall to the room that had no guard—which still baffled Changbin. If Chan was the only living person to pay for the crimes of that cult, why was he so unprotected? </p><p> </p><p>Changbin made his way into the room. Chan was whispering to himself, making the atmosphere so uneasy. </p><p> </p><p>He approached the bed quietly, watching as Chan murmured to himself. His wrists were red. The parts of face he could see were red. He just looked horrible. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin reached out briefly, he wasn’t sure why, but he grazed his fingers over Chan’s hand, instantly getting a reaction. </p><p> </p><p>“Minho?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin inhaled, retreating his fingers to Chan’s dismay. </p><p> </p><p>“Minho please... is that you? Minho?” Chan was shaking like he was freezing, “M-Minho I’m so sorry. I’m so... where are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Chan start to sob through his struggling breaths of air. </p><p> </p><p>The air was cold, and the sight made Changbin shiver even more.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m... I really don’t want to be here.” Chan yanked at the handcuff with a bitter whine, hand shaking so much that Changbin wanted to take them off of him. </p><p> </p><p>Why did he even care? </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t... I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Chan went on like that for awhile, constantly sputtering apologies and how he had no choice — everyone has a choice, right? Chan didn’t <em> have </em> to kill Minho. He didn’t <em> have </em>to terrify Changbin and attempt burning him alive. He didn’t have to do that. </p><p> </p><p>“I love you... I really do. I’m so sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin grimaced as Chan kept on. What was he supposed to say? </p><p> </p><p>“Minho please talk to me... I don’t want to be here. I didn’t want to live. Why didn’t Jisung leave me?”</p><p> </p><p>Maybe Jisung’s name on Chan’s lips elicited some sort of tug at Changbin’s heart. </p><p> </p><p>“Jisung isn’t like you, that’s why.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t <em> mean </em>to say that aloud, but the moment he did Chan stilled. </p><p> </p><p>It was like a brand new wave of disappointment waved over Chan. Changbin could see the trembling of his lips and his body settling in defeat. </p><p> </p><p>“Changbin...”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin wanted to leave. He wasn’t even sure why he was there. </p><p> </p><p>“Changbin, I’m so sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>What the hell was he supposed to do, forgive him? Chan had nearly gotten him killed. Why would he accept his apology? </p><p> </p><p>“You’re sorry?” Changbin snapped back. </p><p> </p><p>Chan started to look more and more tense. More and more defeated. </p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t... I didn’t want that to happen to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You lit me on fire, Chan.”</p><p> </p><p>“I had no choice.” Chan sniffled, breaths so uneven and sharp, “I had—“</p><p> </p><p>“You had no choice?! You could have maybe gone to the fucking police. Or you could have—“</p><p> </p><p>“My family. No choice.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin grit his teeth, “you admitted to me that you killed Minho. You were at his funeral with his fucking parents. You... why the fuck would I feel anything but hatred for you? My <em> best </em>friend. I trusted you—“</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Chan’s breathing was so fucking excruciating to listen to.</p><p> </p><p>“You almost had me killed. You... you nailed me to a fucking— Jesus Christ, Chan?!”</p><p> </p><p>“I deserve this.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin shivered at his words. </p><p> </p><p>“If I told anyone... Minho would have been killed anyways. I don’t know what they would have done to him if I refused.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand, why the fuck did you <em> have </em>to?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hyunjin...” Chan’s lip quivered, “Hyunjin marked him to hurt me. It was on purpose.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would you fucking let that happen? Why wouldn’t you stop it!?”</p><p> </p><p>“Once someone has the mark... it’s over for them.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin scoffed at that, the memory of his own burn running through his mind, “I’m still fucking here.” </p><p> </p><p>Chan was silent awhile. </p><p> </p><p>And then he spoke, so harshly that Changbin wanted to disappear. </p><p> </p><p>“I killed my family to save your life.”</p><p> </p><p>Was Changbin supposed to feel sorry?! Was he supposed to sit there and thank Chan for saving him? </p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t intend on surviving.”</p><p> </p><p>“No...” Chan started to sob again, his hands as shaky as they were when Changbin had touched him, “I didn’t want to live with this. I didn’t... I thought Minho was taking me into the back to take me with him but then...”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin sighed aloud, hugging himself through the coldness of the room. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m still here.” Chan sputtered that out like it was the worst thing in the world. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe living had been the worst thing for him. </p><p> </p><p>“I never wanted any of this. If I tried to go they would have killed my parents and my little brother and sister. I couldn’t go.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin closed his eyes, the sight of Chan sobbing and shaking too much for him. He shouldn’t feel anything for chan. If not for what he did for Minho, then for what he’d done to Changbin. </p><p> </p><p>“If I took Minho... they would have found me. They would have hurt him way more than—“</p><p> </p><p>“That was the most excruciating experience I’ve ever had, Chan.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin bit hard into his lip, “being strung up with a sharp crown and nails in my fucking hands and ankles.... rusted nails. I’ve never been more terrified.”</p><p> </p><p>It hurt. The realization that Changbin had only had a fraction of what his best friend had felt. It made his skin crawl just thinking about how horrible Minho must’ve felt. </p><p> </p><p>And Chan let it happen. </p><p> </p><p>“I keep seeing their faces. I keep seeing your face. I can feel the nails. I can feel the flames at my legs. And it won’t go away. I’m always so fucking cold—.” Changbin didn’t like crying. He never cried. But he was so in shock that he couldn’t control it. </p><p> </p><p>“Changbin...”</p><p> </p><p>“I will never be at peace again, because of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Chan turned his head, body so shaky. </p><p> </p><p>“You can’t come back from this.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to.” Chan whispered finally, “I just wanted to go with him...”</p><p> </p><p>Chan was delusional. Granted Changbin knew that when Jisung told him. Chan talked to the air. No—he talked to Minho. How guilt must’ve been so bad he’d manifested a make believe ghost in the form of Minho. It felt sick, but maybe Chan had lost it to the point he really did think Minho had been there with him. </p><p> </p><p>“What did Minho say when you were burning me alive?”</p><p> </p><p>Chan turned his head again, “that he’d enjoy watching Felix burn.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin approached the bed slowly, “what did he say about me?”</p><p> </p><p>“He asked if you deserved it.” Chan sobbed again, like there was more to say. </p><p> </p><p>“Is that all?” Why did it matter? </p><p> </p><p>Chan took a shallow breath as he whimpered through his tears again, “he said it was unfair.”</p><p> </p><p>“What was?”</p><p> </p><p>“I n-never wanted this.”</p><p> </p><p>“What was unfair?”</p><p> </p><p>“C-Changbin—.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fucking tell me, Chan.” Changbin knew that Minho was just serving Chan’s fucking conscience at this point. Whatever Minho said was what got Chan to listen. </p><p> </p><p>“He said saving you was unfair. Being nice to you was unfair. He was so... he didn’t take it seriously. He kept making jokes and he kept making me feel bad. He kept on and on... and I thought it would end. I thought when he took me back there it would end but w-why am I still here?” Chan yanked harshly at the handcuffs. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin shook his head. Minho joked around a lot, he did. But Chan really must’ve needed some sort of escape from his reality. And he used a phantom of Minho to do it. </p><p> </p><p>“I never wanted you to get hurt. I had to save you... I had the option to save you so I took it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you use it to save him?”</p><p> </p><p>“It was my first time.” Chan whispered. </p><p> </p><p>“Your first time what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Minho was the second person I killed.” <em> Second. </em>It took Changbin a moment to realize that Hyunjin had been up there too. </p><p> </p><p>“Jesus Christ.” Changbin turned, rubbing his temples in annoyance. </p><p> </p><p>“I should have taken Minho home...”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin sighed out, listening to the broken man behind him sobbing like a child. Maybe Chan was a child—no, Changbin didn’t want to feel bad for him. It wasn’t fair to Minho. And it wasn’t fair to him. </p><p> </p><p>“He really loved you.” </p><p> </p><p>“I k-know. I loved him t-too. I swear. I loved him so much.”</p><p> </p><p>Chan sounded crazy. He’d fallen into a loop of how much he loved Minho. Over and over again. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin should leave, right? </p><p> </p><p>“I just want to go. I don’t want to be here.” </p><p> </p><p>Changbin left after that. </p>
<hr/><p>“You did what?” </p><p> </p><p>Changbin had admitted to seeing Chan again. </p><p> </p><p>“Why would you go see him again, he’s fucked in the head Changbin?!”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin felt like that was too harsh. Chan deserved it but somehow Changbin didn’t think he did at the same time. Chan hadn’t had a choice, if what he said was true. Chan was distraught. Beyond that. </p><p> </p><p>“He apologized to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“He knew it was you this time?”</p><p> </p><p>“He really... he’s awful, Jisung.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, no shit.” Jisung rested into Changbin’s side at the bed, peppering his shoulder in kisses, “don’t see him again... he won’t pull through anyways.” </p><p> </p><p>Changbin sighed, “I think he might...”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, really?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not... you pulled him out faster than I thought. He looks bad but he can speak and... I don’t know. Why did you help him—“</p><p> </p><p>“Because he saved you. And maybe part of me wanted some sort of justice for all the other people he’s killed.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ah.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I think he’s suffered enough, Jisung.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did he say to you?” Jisung asked with a frown, “you were... you talked about how much he deserved this the other day?”</p><p> </p><p>“I changed my mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did he say?”</p><p> </p><p>“I believe him. When he says he had no choice.”</p><p> </p><p>“He could have called—“</p><p> </p><p>Changbin shook his head, turning to face Jisung, “I looked more into this cult... apparently they really didn’t have a choice. At least not the position Chan was in. Apparently there were files in that surgeon guys desk that talked about Chan’s mental health. Him and some physician were worried he wouldn’t be able to... it’s all just really fucked, Jisung.”</p><p> </p><p>“That information was released?”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s a lot online now... a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung took a deep breath, “it doesn’t excuse what he did.” Jisung brought a hand to Changbin’s face, rolling gentle circles with his thumb, “I could have lost you...”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m still here. Just a little battered.”</p><p> </p><p>“When can you leave?”</p><p> </p><p>“Soon. I can go home soon...”</p><p> </p><p>“Can I go with you? I don’t... I can’t go back to campus. I haven’t been able to even go to my room because of—“</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I’d love that. You can meet my parents outside of the hospital. My sister is a really great cook too. I know she’s going to spoil me when I get back.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung smiled wide, “I can't wait.”</p>
<hr/><p>Changbin would be discharged the next day. A week had passed and Changbin was finally being allowed to go home. It wasn’t like he’d been held hostage or anything, but they’d told him it was best to stay and heal up. </p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t seen Chan at all since their second visit. Part of Changbin wanted to see him before he left, but another didn’t feel comfortable doing that at all. He didn’t <em> want </em> to feel bad for Chan. He didn’t <em> want </em>to help him cope. He just... Changbin wasn’t sure why he wanted to see Chan so much. </p><p> </p><p>Another empty hall. Changbin easily made his way through the hallway. It was late anyways. And again, it didn’t seem like anyone really gave a shit about Chan. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin closed the door behind himself slowly, approaching the hospital bed. </p><p> </p><p>Chan didn’t look as horrible as he had. He didn’t have as many tubes hooked up to him anymore. And strangely enough he wasn’t handcuffed. They’d switched out the cuffs for restraints, hooked firmly around either wrist. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe instead of seeing Chan as a criminal they were seeing him as someone in need of help. Changbin didn’t know. The restraints looked way comfier than the cuffs though. </p><p> </p><p>Chan stirred as Changbin ran his fingers along the brown cuff. </p><p> </p><p>“Hello?” </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t ask for Minho this time. But Changbin would stay quiet. </p><p> </p><p>Chan didn’t say anything else. He just let his head roll back against the pillow. The bandages around his face now covered a lot less area. Changbin could see the burns and blisters, though they weren’t as horrific as they had been a week ago. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Chan.” Changbin whispered, finally getting a response from Chan. </p><p> </p><p>“Changbin?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Changbin took a deep breath before lingering his fingers to Chan’s bumpy skin. His hands weren’t so bad either. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing here?” Chan asked, voice more clear though there was lingering defeat. </p><p> </p><p>“I leave tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s good. I’m glad you’re okay.” Chan was so much more calm. More collected. Maybe he’d been hit with relief, “I haven’t had anyone to talk to for days... why did you come?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin frowned, cupping his hand over Chan’s. He received a light response, Chan’s fingers just twitching under his hand. </p><p> </p><p>“I forgive you. For me. I can’t forgive you for anything else but...” did he forgive Chan? </p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“I know that... there’s been a lot to come out since we last spoke. I know that cult you were in forced you into... that.”</p><p> </p><p>Chan was quiet. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry that your life turned out that way. I know that you didn’t really have a choice that wouldn’t have backfired anyways.”</p><p> </p><p>“Changbin...”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin wrapped his fingers around Chan’s, giving him the slightest squeeze. Chan’s face contorted at that, like it stung. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe it didn’t sting. Maybe it warmed him. Changbin wasn’t sure, but the slight squeeze from Chan’s fingers were telling. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you going to survive?”</p><p> </p><p>Chan nodded, taking a shaky inhale like it was the worst thing imaginable.</p><p> </p><p>“Why is nobody watching you?”</p><p> </p><p>“They’re waiting for me to... get better enough.”</p><p> </p><p>“Better enough for what?”</p><p> </p><p>“A place. Somewhere I’ll be alone.”</p><p> </p><p>Maybe they were committing Chan. The news said he was crazy. He’d been written off as mentally ill and unstable and—as mentally fucked as Chan was, knowing he’d be alone in a room by himself made Changbin shudder. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t sure why he was unclasping the restraints on Chan’s arms. But he was. </p><p> </p><p>“Changbin?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin took a deep breath as he pulled away from Chan, the elder male moving his arms slowly. Like he hadn’t been able to since he’d been here. </p><p> </p><p>“I just wanted to tell you that I forgive you.”</p><p> </p><p>Chan managed to move himself slowly, sitting up with hisses and whines, his hands turned so that his palms were on display, bandages littered up his arms. </p><p> </p><p>“And I wanted to give you... some sort of choice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Choice?”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t want to go, do you?”</p><p> </p><p>Chan’s hands were shaky, “I don’t want to go anywhere... I just want to see Minho.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin shut his eyes tight, “you should go see him.” Chan wasn’t mentally sound. Changbin knew exactly what Chan meant. He knew the second he left Chan alone in this room that Chan would do something drastic. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you have anything?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin’s heart knotted at Chan’s request, “I do.”</p><p> </p><p>Chan stared down at his hands, though he didn’t really have the ability to see anymore. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin frowned at that, “I’m sorry about your family. I’m sorry about you.” Was he? He wasn’t sure. </p><p> </p><p>Chan was quiet, <em> shaky </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Chan.” </p><p> </p><p>Chan looked in the direction Changbin stood, “I just... I’m so tired, Changbin.” He was sobbing again. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin bit his lip as he approached Chan again, grabbing the man's wrist and placing a pen from his pocket into his hand. A pen he’d snagged from a nurse earlier. Maybe he hadn’t intended on giving it to Chan, but maybe he had. Changbin didn’t fucking know anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Chan sputtered out another sob at, grabbing Changbin’s wrist with his free hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Chan...”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Changbin.” It hurt. But Changbin was aware that what Chan really wanted was a way out. </p><p> </p><p>“Go see Minho...” Changbin whispered back as Chan’s grasp loosened, “tell him I miss him, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Changbin I’m... i’m so sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t apologize...” Changbin turned to leave the room, reaching the door as fast as he could. </p><p> </p><p>He’d tried so hard to leave before Chan did anything. But he could hear the whimper of pain. He didn’t want to even see what Chan was doing. The noise was bad enough. </p><p> </p><p>Once the pen dropped and painful sobs left Chan’s lips, he had to retreat. He had to— </p><p> </p><p>“Minho?” Changbin grit his teeth at the words behind him, “Min... You came back—“</p><p> </p><p>Changbin left, sliding down the door in slight panic. Part of him felt awful, but the other part felt completely okay. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe Changbin would get in trouble for letting Chantear his wrists open. Maybe he’d be a hero to people for this. He didn’t even care. He really didn’t. Changbin couldn’t even leave Chan’s fucking door.</p><p> </p><p>He heard the call. He could hear the machine beeping behind him. </p><p> </p><p>But he was oddly at peace. </p>
<hr/><p><em> . </em> <b> <em>Chan</em> </b>.</p><p> </p><p>Chan wasn’t sure why he’d done it. He shouldn’t have accepted the pen so quickly. But there he was, holding the pen in grasp as he heard Changbin start to limp towards the door. </p><p> </p><p>Why was Changbin doing this for him? </p><p> </p><p>Maybe Changbin just wanted Chan dead. Chan understood why he would. Chan had almost killed him. Chan had killed his best friend and Chan was—he was digging the pointed tip of the pin into his wrist. </p><p> </p><p>It hurt. But it didn’t hurt anymore than the burns that littered his body and face. It couldn’t feel any worse than his lack of sight. </p><p> </p><p>Not being able to see anymore might have been the worst punishment of all. The moment Chan woke up in the hospital he was told he’d been blinded. He’d never see again. </p><p> </p><p>And that’s when Minho disappeared. Chan thought it was a joke, and that Minho was still with him. Maybe he was just being quiet. </p><p> </p><p>But he wasn’t. The phantom was gone. And Chan was left all alone. Alone with the whispers from the nurses. Alone with the guilt of everything that had happened and how it was now all on him. </p><p> </p><p>He had taken the fall for everything. And maybe he deserved it. </p><p> </p><p>But the loneliness was too much. The guilt of having nobody to hold his hand or wish him better. The pain of knowing literally nobody cared about him anymore. </p><p> </p><p>He was nothing. </p><p> </p><p>Chan deserved this. He knew he did. But he hated it. He hated that his brain wasn’t allowing him any comfort. Wasn’t that what the illusion of Minho was for? Comfort? Why had he left? Why did Minho leave?</p><p> </p><p>Chan whimpered out at the pain in his arm. He’d dragged the pen so far up his arm he really hadn’t noticed just how wet he was now. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t like he could see anyways. He wasn’t sure how bad it was. He needed to be quick though. He didn’t want anyone to try and revive him. <em> Revive </em>him. </p><p> </p><p>He wanted to die so badly. </p><p> </p><p>Chan heard the pen fall to the floor. He was shaking, unable to move as his wrist pumped crimson he couldn’t see. </p><p> </p><p>It was kind of terrifying, not being able to see what he’d done to himself. But Chan was aware. He was very <em> aware </em>. </p><p> </p><p>He felt so cold and empty. Chan had never felt more empty in all his life. It just hurt. Everything. But all he could do was cry against painful burns on his face and tighten his fist as he soaked in what he believed was his own blood. </p><p> </p><p>Chan wanted to go. He really wanted to go. </p><p> </p><p>Warmth. An odd and uncomfortable warmth spread across his cheek. </p><p> </p><p>No. He wanted to die. He didn’t want anyone to save him. He didn’t want the nurses to pretend to care about him. He didn’t want this—</p><p> </p><p>“Now what did you do, Channie?” </p><p> </p><p>Chan knew he’d only been seconds into hurting himself, but that <em> voice </em> . Chan wished he hadn’t hurt himself now. Not when the <em> voice </em>had returned. </p><p> </p><p>“Minho?” Chan whimpered, body shaking, “Min, you came back?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin must have left. The door closed the second the words left his mouth. Had he wanted to watch Chan die? Chan didn’t blame him. </p><p> </p><p>“Look at you... you’re a mess.” </p><p> </p><p>Hands. Hands at his face. Hands were touching his face. And they felt so nice. They felt so real and good. </p><p> </p><p>Chan couldn’t help but falter, the feeling of warmth encasing him. Like someone was actually holding him. For the first time in so long, someone was holding him. </p><p> </p><p>The pain in his arm crawled up his shoulder. Crawled up his throat and his head. It hurt so badly. But the warmth? The warmth felt so good. Almost as if the pain wasn’t so terrible. </p><p> </p><p>“Lay down.” </p><p> </p><p>Chan did as he was told, warm hand at his face as another ran down his back. </p><p> </p><p>He knew he was crazy. He knew he was dying. But that was okay. Because Minho was there. Minho was with him, petting his face and shushing him. </p><p> </p><p>He was here. He was here. He was here. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re here...”</p><p> </p><p>“Shush, save your energy. You’re so dumb, Chan.”</p><p> </p><p>Chan couldn’t help but melt into the embrace around him, burying his face into the neck of something that wasn’t really there. </p><p> </p><p>“You just couldn’t wait, could you?”</p><p> </p><p>Chan hummed in response, body starting to feel more numb than he’d ever imagined. But the pain was subsiding. It was nice. </p><p> </p><p>“You just <em> had </em>to take an early flight.”</p><p> </p><p>“I miss you.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did I say about talking?”</p><p> </p><p>Chan smiled at that. And even if it wasn’t real—God, it sure felt real. </p><p> </p><p>He could feel his tears halting, body relaxing. He felt the softest touches. And then lips. Lips against his forehead and the bridge of his nose. And of course it wasn’t real but it <em> felt </em>real. </p><p> </p><p>“I love you.” </p><p> </p><p>Minho didn’t shush Chan that time. The warmth only grew. His head and chest were so hot—similar to the fire. But they weren’t a harmful hot. The heat felt nice. </p><p> </p><p>“I love you too, Channie.”</p><p> </p><p>Did he? Did Chan deserve that at all? </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t think so. But he melted against the warmth, embracing it comfortably. </p><p> </p><p>He was tired.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry for everything—“</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up, just go to sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>Chan nodded, the lips continuing to graze his face. As much as he wanted to just grab this phantom and kiss him as hard as he could, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t move. He was so weak. So tired. </p><p> </p><p>“You’ll see me soon. I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>Peace rang through him as he melted into the dark. </p><p> </p><p>Chan was at peace.</p><p> </p><p><em>. </em><b><em>Chan</em> </b>.</p>
<hr/><p>There was no victory in Chan’s death. There was no wash of good feelings. No relief. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin shouldn’t have cared. He shouldn’t have felt so awful afterwards. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t like he’d been blamed. A fucking nurse took the blame. She took the entire credit for what happened to Chan. In the name of being superior. She was a hero. Granted she was in tons of legal trouble. </p><p> </p><p>There was no fucking happiness in Chan’s death. If Chan hadn’t been so pitiful maybe Changbin would have smothered him instead. But no, he gave him a fucking pen. He knew Chan would use it. </p><p> </p><p>And he did. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin didn’t want to know the details. He didn’t want to see the images of Chan’s body across the internet. He just wanted to rest. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Jisung. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin looked up from his place at the glass window, “yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you ready to go?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin inhaled. </p><p> </p><p>“Baby, are you sure you want to go?” Jisung asked worriedly, “we don’t have to.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s only fair.” Changbin whispered back, sliding up with his book in hand, tucking it under his arm as he took Jisung’s hand. </p><p> </p><p>Jisung smiled, giving Changbin’s hand the slightest kiss, “I love you, okay? This is... you’re amazing for doing this for him.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not a bad person.” The words felt wrong with all Chan had done. But before he knew Chan was burning people alive in a cult... he was such a sweet guy. Weird after Minho died, but before he’d been so sweet. </p><p> </p><p>Minho loved Chan. Chan couldn’t have ever been that bad. Minho didn’t love anyone. Not really, anyways. But Chan... he’d been special. He’d gotten Minho’s attention. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin hoped that if Minho wanted it, that they were together. Whether in heaven or wandering the universe together. He just wanted them to be happy. </p><p> </p><p>It felt wrong to want Chan’s happiness.  </p><p> </p><p>“It’s beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Unmarked </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re amazing, Changbin.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin had paid a lot to get Chan’s ashes. A lot to make sure nobody ever found out this urn was his. That this space adorned in flowers and teddy bears wasn’t Chan’s. </p><p> </p><p>“He’d love it.” Jisung rested his chin at Changbin’s shoulder as he encased Changbin in his grasp from behind, “he really would.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin took a deep breath, “I wish I could have gotten him a spot by Minho... but his lot is full.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure the distance can’t keep them apart.”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin leaned back into Jisung’s warmth, “this is all so fucked, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly... yeah.” Jisung laughed, “wanna go see Min?”</p><p> </p><p>Changbin nodded, leaving Jisung’s grasp to take his hand, “yeah... can we go home after?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you, Jisung.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisung smiled at that. Changbin was lucky. He didn’t deserve Jisung. He never had. </p><p> </p><p>Changbin could never thank Chan enough for giving him the love of his life.</p><p> </p><p>In the end, it was only fair that Changbin helped Chan get back to his own.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A L S O </p><p>I don’t know why on earth I have to do this but please do not reupload my work under any circumstances. If you’d like to for any reason please message me first, do not reupload my work. If you see my works on wattpad please report them, I will never grant permission for wattpad.<br/><a href="https://mobile.twitter.com/skzorcism">Twitter</a><br/><a href="https://curiouscat.me/Str4y">Curious Cat</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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